Dreaming of death


Last night was one of those nights where I woke up remembering several dreams.  Among them was a strange one.  I died.

I dreamed I woke up from a colorful dream into a grainy, black and white “reality” where I was lying in a bed.  In my “reality” I knew I was dying.  I mean seconds or less away from death.  I couldn’t move, and I knew my face was completely numb.  My vision, such as it was, was fading rapidly.  The grainy black and white world was receding as if down a black tunnel.  Drawing inward to a shrinking point.  Fast.  It was similar to what I have experienced as anesthesia took effect.

Strangely, I was not frightened.  There was no thought of “heaven or hell”; just a sadness that “this is it”.  I knew that my experiences were coming to a close; to be measured in mere moments that were ticking away very fast.  I wasn’t ready for “me” to end.  I did feel a bit of curiosity- would my consciousness continue?  I was thinking if it didn’t I would never know.

Then I died and as I did I “woke up” into another reality.  One of color.  There was no “instant” or “pop”, just a smooth transition.  Oddly, I am not sure if I was actually awake at this point, or just dreaming that I was awake.

What a bizarre thing the human mind is.  I understand how myths can begin without intentional deception.  What I can’t figure out is how they could continue for thousands of years without intentional deception.  I don’t think they can.

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